I suppose when Brooks said, “See you later,” he meant
whenever I could come up another pathetic ruse to get his attention. Fuck that.
The path to his heart is proving to be significantly more treacherous than I'd
planned for, so I've given up on my own ideas. I picked up a book called Bitches
Get Rings: How to Trap Your Man for Good, and in a mere day it has cleared
my head—highlighted my priorities. If I want to get Brooks, if I want him to
get on one knee and later say “I do,” I have to make myself valuable. He
needs to know my worth—supply versus demand.

“Good morning,” two suited men say to me in unison as I
reach the top step.

My smile is polite as I step past the heavy doors.
“Morning.”

I weave through the pastel herd, slinking down the aisle,
eyes searching inconspicuously for the back of his head. It's Easter Sunday.
Brooks told Facebook days ago he'd be here when he declined his co-worker's
invitation to meet up. Another time, man. Going to church with the fam,
he'd said. So, I've been patient. Have read the book twice, and am committed to
following its advice. No messaging and asking what he's up to, no accidental
butt-dials, no I-thought-you-said-we'd-talk-later-asshole text.

No weakness.

I'm determined now to be a big fucking tease and show him
how much he needs me. So, I stalked him. Followed him. Now, I'm here at
church—a place I haven't been since my parents' funeral—wearing my Sunday best,
and prepared to do my best work.

Lauren Campbell lives in Atlanta, GA, with her family, and
is author of The Evolution of Ivy: Poison.

She was raised in Columbia, SC, with her three sisters who annoy her greatly.

Lauren's social life is pretty boring, but she loves reading, coffee & hot
tea, and living in her pajamas. She's a glutton for punishment, and regrettably
signs up for things like Room Mom in her children's classes, leaving her up all
night doing things like baking dozens of cookies between swear words. Her
favorite food is avocado. If she could, she'd find a way to put it on
everything